No One's Ever Told Me
by Moiranne Rose
Summary: Summary: Sephiroth's never felt anything towards anyone before. He can't understand what friendship is. And he can't decide if he should feel it. Slightly dark, angst, blood, all that jazz.


**Title: No one's ever told me**

**Summary: Sephiroth's never felt anything towards anyone before. He can't understand what friendship is. And he can't decide if he should feel it. Slightly dark, angst, blood, all that jazz.**

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The lift doors close and it shudders before the slow ascension. I stand perfectly straight, no leaning against the sides or resting all my weight on one foot. The lift counts the numbers with dull monotonous notes, but I don't need the flashing numbers to tell me that I'm on the floor I need to go to. I suppress the dread with practiced ease.

_Have you felt this dread going to Hollander's too?_

I've come to this place so many times before, I don't need to think even as my feet, on habit, bring me to the place I need to go to. I don't need to knock to hear the voice call, "Come in, my boy, come in."

I do not respond to the "affectionate" name he has coined for me. The usual mako injection is already filled. I sigh and sit down on the operating table. I feel, with some form of detached familiarity, the needle enter my vein at my right shoulder. The rush of cold, freezing mako. And then the withdrawal and the customary cotton pad for me to hold.

_Did Hollander do that to you?_

"So, my boy, how was your day? I heard there was some hiccup near Modeoheim with one of your friends. One of that silly man Hollander's pet projects."

_Friend? What is friendship?_

"It was dealt with by the new 1st Fair, Professor Hojo. He appears to have defeated Angeal."

"Oh, so the new one is very strong, is he? He might make a good specimen..."

"NO!"

I rise to my feet, shocking myself more than Hojo.

_Is it this protective feeling?_

"Ahh...Interesting. Protectiveness, never thought you had it in you, my boy. Very interesting." He takes up a pad of paper and starts jotting down notes. I sit back onto the table awkwardly.

_Was I ever like this to you? Protecting you?_

A pen scratches the paper.

_No. You and he are different. I protect him. I couldn't protect you. Yet I think of you both as friends. What are friends?_

The bespectacled face looks up and nods, as if deciding something. He puts down the pad, and he's coming towards me.

"Take off your coat. Lie down, my boy. Face downwards, that's it."

I comply obediently, for that is what I've always done.

"I'm going to try something today. It will hurt. But-" he pets my bared back, near the shoulder, "-our Great General Sephiroth can handle it right?"

I swallow and nod.

_Do friends stand by you in danger? Are they forever loyal? Will they always be there to hold out a hand and pull you up?_

I feel an incision near the bone. It hurts, but I deal with it. The scalpel, or what feels like it, continues, burning a thin line of fire across the whole shoulder blade. I master the pain, and feel the blood bubble up and out of the cut.

_What were we? Were we friends?_

Hojo leaves me on the table, scalpel set down, and walks to another part of his laboratory. I lie quietly and listen, with mako-enhanced hearing, to the click of a capsule being opened, the thump of something being transferred from the containment unit to a gurney. The wheels groan a bit under the weight.

_He's different. From you. Is it possible to be friends with two different people? Two completely different people?_

I bite back a scream as there's a more vicious cut near my side. The scalpel cuts well, another gush of blood escapes and I sag weakly on the table.

_What are friends? I've never known what a friend was. No one's ever told me._

There's an satisfied grunt as I feel the two lines of fire meet at the bottom of my shoulder. Then Hojo sits back and lifts a PHS and dials a number. Moments later, two of his helpers, black-haired, white coats, silent, come in to assist. I can feel the life in me ebbing away as every moment, another gush of blood, another slit, another wound, another scar.

I lift my failing eyes to the gurney next to me. A black mound of...what is it? It looks soft. The two assistants lift the black mass and carry it closer to me. Something soft brushes my pale skin. Feathers. Wing.

What's he doing with it? The realization and darkness set in at the same time.

_I'm becoming a monster. _

Things swim and I have the vague impression of you laughing at me. And at the same time, I can see him reaching to me, his eyes, amethyst, seem to be concerned...

_Is that what a friend would do? _

I can see Hojo putting on a fresh set of gloves, relinquishing the previous ones with disgust. I think of what he's going to make me become.

_Can a monster have friends?_

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**A/N: My beta for this story, GoldenShinyWireofHope, says that there are similarities between this and one of the works of a writer named "LuckyLadyBug". According to my beta, the story is "Installation" though I've never read it, but I've heard that LuckyLadyBug is a good writer. So I'm sure it's tons better. Maybe, dear readers, you can go and read that one too.**

**And I've contacted her and she gave me the go ahead! Thanks dear.**

**Moiranne Rose (still not begging, just wishing)**


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